


No Life is Worth a Kingdom

by orphan_account



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Time Shenanigans, based off of a prompt, this is going to be kind of long
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-05-16 15:49:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5831494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Narnians have lost the battle against Miraz, who has taken the throne, forcing Caspian and the Pevensies into hiding. When Peter is offered a do over by the White Witch, it could save Narnia, but at what cost?<br/>(**ON HIATUS as of Nov. 2016, while I take a break from writing Narnia.**)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

All was lost. Miraz had won, and the battlefield was red with the blood of the Narnians and Telmarines alike.  
They had had no choice but to flee.   
Caspian and the Pevensies took refuge in the depths of the forests, hiding out in the remains of the Howe. None of them, however, were foolish enough to believe that the small shelter would be safe for long. It was but a matter of time before Miraz sent some of his men to find them, but this time, they would not have the safety of numbers to hide behind.   
Time was running out, and they knew it. With every second passing, they were one step closer to the end of the line.

It was this knowledge that had pushed Peter to where he was that day.  
Standing in front of what was left of the stone table, as the others had gone to collect what little food they could from what was left of the woods. The air dropping to a seemingly impossibly low temperature, wind cold as it breezed gently through the room, while Peter stood in front of the White Witch.  
She was beautiful, in a way, hair flowing behind her, as white as her dress in contrast to the darkness he knew all too well that lurked beneath her skin.  
She smiled a crooked smile, sending chills running down his spine, and had he any other choice, he would not have fought the urge to turn and walk away.

“Peter, dear.” She spoke incredibly softly, in a sickeningly sweet voice convincing enough that Peter could understand what had driven Edmund to believe in her innocence when he had first met her.  
“What is it that you want from me?” She spoke this time with a half smile and knowing eyes, and Peter scoffed.  
“You know.”  
The Witch chuckled under her breath, never once breaking eye contact with Peter.  
“You want another chance? A do over? I can give you that. Back to the beginning, before Miraz won.”  
He knew that she could, and it was not his being deceived by her that he was wary of. It was what she would ask in return that scared him. Though, by this point, there was very little he would not give her, for he had no other way to turn, there was little more to be lost.  
“In exchange for what?” Peter asked, cautiously.  
The half smile on her face shifted slowly into a soft one that any person who knew nothing of her would believe to be genuine and kind. Peter, however, was not fooled.  
“All I ask from you in return, is that, should you succeed in your quest, you free me.”

Peter considered it for a moment, he didn’t want Jadis to roam free once more, but if he didn’t accept her help, Narnia would be destroyed forever.  
“And if I take what you offer and do not free you?”  
The expression on her face was no longer soft and sweet, her features hardened into that of someone unmistakably dangerous and terrifying. This time, when she spoke, her words were harsh and clipped.  
“If you succeed in your quest to save Narnia from Miraz, and refuse to free me within one week afterwards, all will return to as it was before.”

Peter hesitated for a moment, they had defeated the White Witch once before, but he wasn’t sure if they could do it again. 

She seemed to notice Peter’s hesitation, speaking up once again.  
“If you don’t, you know it’s only a matter of time until he finds you. The game is over. But it doesn’t have to be.”   
He looked down, considering her words. She was right, of course she was, that’s why he was standing in front of her in the first place.  
After a brief pause, she spoke up a final time.  
“After all, what more have you to lose?”

At those words, Peter swallowed his pride, and held his hand out to the wall of ice that stood before him. The ice cracked, an elegant white hand sliding out to meet his, clasping his own in a firm shake, one that was so cold it was like he was holding on to pure ice. 

The world around him fell away, the Howe melting into something else entirely, as the sound of ticking filled his ears, growing louder and louder by the second.

The hand clasping his own had fallen away with the room, and suddenly, there was nothing.  
No Peter, no Howe, no Miraz or stone table or siblings.

Just like that, the last few Narnian years fell away, and two children were born in the Telmarine castle.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have had the worst possible case of writer's block so this chapter is absolutely awful.This took me days to hammer out, and it’s literally been hurting my brain.

Time itself had been rewritten, unwound and fallen away to the birth of the Prince Caspian. However, this time, another child, too, was born in Narnia, by the name of Peter Pevensie. He was born to his parents in the castle, though they themselves were not Telmarines.

A few years passed without incident, Peter and Caspian growing up close to each other, yet their paths never crossing. As time went by, they became further apart, Caspian growing to become the crown Prince of Telmar, and Peter as an ordinary boy, eventually to become a stable boy like his father.

However, on the morning of Caspian’s seventh birthday, tragedy struck.  
King Caspian the Ninth was found dead in his chambers.  
The court was sent into a panic, attempting to figure out how - or what to tell the kingdom, what to do until Caspian was grown enough to take on the role of King. 

Caspian, upon hearing the news of his beloved father’s death, had run.  
He ran through the corridors of the castle, with no real idea of where he was headed or what exactly he was going to do when he got there. All he knew was that he had to get away from the uncaring eyes of the adults, their expressions laced with false sympathy that was so thinly veiled that even though he was only just seven, he could tell was completely insincere.

That was when he ran into someone, effectively being knocked to the ground.  
“I’m sorry!” The other boy quickly apologised, offering out a hand to help Caspian, but he barely noticed, instead he was too busy trying not to let the tears show in front of this other boy. 

He pulled his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and staring down at the ground.

“Are you alright?” Caspian heard him ask, somewhat hesitantly.

Caspian didn’t respond, and the other boy was silent for a moment, Caspian thought he may have gone away, but then there was a warmth against his side, indicating that he had sat down next to him.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”  
Caspian shook his head, and looked over at the boy.  
He seemed to be about the same age as him, but that was where the similarities ended. His hair was blond, and his eyes blue - a perfect contrast to Caspian’s dark features.

“Okay.” The boy shrugged, but didn’t move from where he was sitting. A silence fell over the two, though not uncomfortable or unpleasant.  
“I’m Peter.”  
“Caspian.” He replied, voice just barely above a whisper.

Neither boy spoke for a while, and just as Peter was about to open his mouth to say something, Caspian’s mother came .walking past, breathing a deep sigh of relief at the sight of her son.  
“There you are!” she looked over at the young boy sitting beside her son, she was certain she’d never seen him before.  
“Come along Caspian.” She smiled sweetly at him, leaning down and offering him her hand.  
The young boy took it and allowed himself to be pulled up and dragged back to the lords of the council. 

His mother couldn’t help but allow a tear to roll down her cheek, not only for the loss of her beloved husband, but for her son. He was only a child, barely past being a toddler, and she was certain that the next few years would be the hardest and the loneliest of his life. She could only hope that he would have a friend or two to get him through, she was his mother, but to a child, a mother is a poor substitute for a true friend.

After that day Peter and Caspian seemed to run into each other often. Much of the time, they didn’t speak, choosing instead to sit in silence in the company of one of the only people in the castle of their age. 

As time passed, and the boys grew up they began to open up to one another, quickly becoming fast friends.

When Caspian’s mother passed away not three years after his father had, Peter was there with a (only slightly awkward) hug, and had dragged him out to the stables to play with the horses, insisting that it would distract him from his grief. 

When Caspian’s nurse had been taken from him, only to be replaced with a professor, Peter took Caspian out of the castle and had sat with him, allowing Caspian to tell him the stories that his nurse had told him. The stories of the Old Narnia, the one that had been ruled by the great Lion, when fauns had danced with dryads and trees had spoken and swayed to soft Narnian lullabies.

Their relationship developed quickly into a strong friendship, and both boys were young and naive enough to believe that a friendship between the Prince and a lowly stable boy would be accepted by all. They were either far too innocent to notice the way that Caspian’s uncle Miraz would glare scornfully at them whenever they would play together in the castle, or if they did notice, they just didn’t care. 

It wasn’t until they were fourteen years old that things began to change.

Suddenly, Caspian was being taught manners and how to interact properly with the Telmarine nobles, and Peter was being given more responsibilities around the stables. It was because of this that it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the large class gap between the two.  
The glances they received from Miraz whenever they were around one another were becoming more and more disapproving, and Caspian had been told multiple times by his uncle that he should not be wasting his time with friends, let alone one so far below his class.

However, they both refused to give up the only friendship that either of them had ever had. There was very little that anybody could actually do to stop them, and so, even if they received a disapproving stare every once in a while, they didn’t care. They had each other, and that was enough.  
Well, it would have been, had Peter's visions not started.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken me so incredibly long to update, I haven’t abandoned my writing I swear lmfao

The first time it happened, Peter was fourteen. One moment he had been washing dishes, and the next he felt a sharp pain in his head, only there for a second, but painful enough that he immediately dropped the plate he was washing, sending it straight to the ground, smashing to pieces where it fell.  
The pain faded out, the world around him went black and a picture, hazy as it was, began to form in his mind.  
It was a room, empty save for a man lying peacefully in his bed, beside a woman. It was far too blurry to see any sort of detail, and the picture seemed to flicker in and out of existence. 

The picture disappeared as quickly as it had come, leaving Peter confused and slightly shaken. He shrugged, and wrote it off as being tired, picking up the broken pieces of the plate on the floor and continuing with his day as if nothing had happened.

Quite a while went by without the incident repeating itself, and after a few months, Peter had honestly forgotten all about the strange vision. 

It was on the eve of Caspian’s fifteenth birthday, that it happened again.  
“You’re really not doing anything for your birthday?”  
Peter asked, flipping through the pages of one of the books Caspian had recommended he read (though Peter wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t just told him so to get him to stay in the library with him while he studied).  
Caspian shook his head,  
“No.” He closed the book on history his professor had told him to read.  
“Miraz says I’m too old for those kinds of childish celebrations.”  
Peter rolled his eyes,  
“You’re turning fifteen, Cas. Not thirty.” Peter had never made any kind of effort to hide his dislike for his friend’s uncle, and if Caspian was upset by this, he showed little to no signs of it.  
Caspian shrugged, moving to look for a book he hadn’t yet read. 

It was then that Peter felt the sharp pain in his head that he hadn’t felt for a few months. Once again, the world around him began to fall away, and it was different this time. A similar room, a similar bed, also with someone laying in it - but it was clearer. Not blurry or hazy or even slightly difficult to see. There was no mistaking who it was, it was Caspian. But his features looked slightly older, his hair ever so slightly longer. The sound of fireworks filled the air, as, outside of Caspian’s room, the announcement could be heard.  
“On this night, Lord Miraz has been blessed with a son!”  
With those words, something inside Peter’s mind seemed to snap, almost like a barricade or a wall being broken down and then the visions began flowing in quickly, so quickly he could barely comprehend what was going on, but somehow he knew, he knew exactly what each one was and who had said what and where it had all taken place.  
There was a woman with a cloak so white it was almost like it was made of snow and a boy who had betrayed his family and a lion, great and big, who he’d recognised from some of Caspian’s history books - Aslan.

There was a wardrobe and a horn and a sword, cordial, dagger, there was a castle, not the Telmarine one, much more beautiful and warm and inviting. Cair Paravel. He saw himself, as old as he had been only a few years before, sitting on the throne between three people who according to the visions were his siblings.  
There was a train station and then suddenly there wasn’t, there was a beach, there was Narnia and the ruins of a castle. There was Caspian and he was fighting with him, they weren’t friends, and Miraz had tried to kill them all and they had gone to war but Miraz had won and there Peter was, only a few years older than he was right then, standing in front of that woman, Jadis, and asking for a deal and the next thing he saw was him just after being born in the this timeline, the one he had already known.

And then he remembered everything, Susan, Edmund, Lucy. They were no longer strange people from visions, they were his siblings who he loved, his family. He couldn’t possibly convince himself that it was just him going crazy because he remembered, he remembered and he knew that it had happened.

Almost as soon as it had started, it was over, and Peter snapped back into reality, frozen where he sat.  
“Peter?” He vaguely registered Caspian calling his name, and turned his head absentmindedly to face the noise.  
“Peter, are you okay?” He asked, and Peter noted the worried look on his friend’s face.  
“Yes. I’m fine, I just... I just zoned out a bit, for a second there. What were you saying?”  
Caspian didn’t buy a word of it, that much was evident in his face. But he said nothing, instead, he sighed, knowing that when Peter didn’t want to talk about something it was a lost cause until he chose to bring it up himself. 

“Alright...” He responded, slowly, and turned back to the bookshelves, continuing to search for something he was yet to read.  
“Well, it’s not just my birthday tomorrow, is it? It’s yours too.” Caspian stated, and Peter scoffed from behind him.  
“Not as though it matters when it comes to me though. You’re probably the only one who cares enough to know, and even then that’s only because we share a birthday. Pretty hard for you to forget that.”  
Peter stated, though it was more like reciting lines from a script. He and Caspian had had this conversation countless times over the past few years, and it always ended the same way, with Peter refusing to acknowledge his birthday as anything special, and Caspian becoming frustrated that Peter would constantly seem to devalue himself because he was of a lower status than he was.

Both boys let the matter go, but when Caspian selected a book and sat to read it, blissfully unaware of what was going on in his friend’s mind, Peter sat staring blankly ahead, shaken by what he had seen.

He had given himself a second chance, he knew why he’d done it, he’d had no choice but to go after Jadis, to ask for a deal. But now that he remembered everything, he knew that he would only have until Miraz’s son was born to change the timeline.  
If he couldn’t do it before then, then Caspian would be forced to flee, and they would have no choice but to fight the war against Miraz without the help of his siblings or the Narnians.

For the first time in a long time, Peter felt dread settle into his veins.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, is is I, The King of Not Updating For Long Periods Of Time™  
> I seem to be through the bad part of tests and assignments and whatnot and I have the next few chapters done (I've had some time off school so I've taken that time to write as much as I can) but not edited, so hopefully they’ll be up next week to make up for my disappearance. I’m far too attached to this story to abandon it.

Peter didn’t manage to get to sleep that night. He’d tossed and turned for hours before finally giving in and going to sit outside and stare up at the stars. But they didn’t seem to offer their usual comfort, nothing around him felt right. His siblings weren’t here and he’d made a deal with the White Witch only to spend the first fourteen years doing absolutely nothing but get attached to the person he was supposed to protect. 

A part of him wanted to give up, there was no possible way he would be able to convince Caspian of his uncle’s true colours until it was too late. Even if he managed to kill Miraz, he would have to do it before Prunaprisma’s child was born, before Caspian would force to flee, and then Caspian would hate him forever, eternally convinced of Miraz’s innocence.

But a larger part of him knew that he had no choice, he’d come this far already. He had gone so far as to make a deal with Jadis, and if he didn’t carry on, he would fail for the second time in a row, fair Narnia, fail Aslan, fail his siblings and fail Caspian. It was funny, to him, how the boy he had sworn he hated (though he hadn’t really, he’d just felt as though he was being replaced) was now the person he considered to be not just his best friend, but his only friend.

He couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to his siblings in this timeline - they weren’t even his siblings this time, he realised. He wondered if the three of them were siblings - he certainly hoped so. Were they alright? Would Susan take good care of Edmund and Lucy? Of course she would, she’d have to.   
It was as he was considering this that a little voice popped up in the back of his head. Telling him that this was, of course, assuming that they existed in this timeline at all.

If he’d thought that the idea that he wasn’t related to his family had hurt, the idea that they didn’t exist at all was worse. So much worse. He had never expected for Jadis to send him back so far as to alter the details of his birth, to change the entire timeline. He had expected her to send him back to when he’d first met Caspian, or before that, just far back enough for them all to have saved Narnia. He wished she had.

But it was too late for turning back, and in the morning, both he and Casian would turn sixteen. Meaning that he had just under a year until Miraz’s son would be born. Just under a year to convince Caspian his uncle was planning to get rid of him as soon as his own son was born, under a year to rid the kingdom of Miraz and restore Caspian to his rightful place on the throne. It had to be done, he knew that, but he wasn’t entirely sure it could be done.  
But then again, if it wasn’t, if everything wasn’t fixed before then, Narnia would be much, much worse off than it had ever been, without the help of Edmund, Lucy and Susan - Peter and Caspian would be on their own, outside of the castle, with no army, and they would have no hope of ever defeating the Telmarines.

Lost deep in his thoughts, Peter hadn’t noticed the sun beginning to rise and the moon beginning to fall back behind the trees.

He continued to sit until he heard someone sitting down next to him, and looked over to see it was Caspian.   
“Peter... Have you been out here all night?” He asked, and Peter simply answered with a shrug. Caspian sighed, he knew there was something bothering Peter, and he only wished he would be comfortable enough to share it. They’d never hidden anything from each other before, and he saw no reason that should change now.

“Why are you out here anyway, shouldn’t you be preparing for some stuffy birthday feast?” Peter stated dryly, and Caspian chuckled softly under his breath in response.  
“I snuck out. Wanted to say happy birthday to you before everything gets too crazy.”  
Peter ducked his head and smiled slightly, it really was insane to him that he’d hated Caspian before this whole thing had begun.  
“So, will you be coming to my birthday ball later?”  
At this, Peter snickered, Miraz would probably have a heart attack if he showed up.  
“Cas... It was alright when we were younger but... Now it’ll just be hours of me sitting by while you’re talking to nobles and... I just, I don’t feel like going.”  
Caspian’s face fell, he knew Peter was right, it wouldn’t be fair to ask him to go, but he wished he could celebrate his birthday with his best friend, and not for the first time, he found himself cursing the class difference between them.

A sort of solemn silence settled over the two, and just as Caspian went to speak, Peter cut him off before he could begin.   
“You should go. Before people start to worry.” His voice was barely above a whisper, and Caspian nodded slowly, standing up to head back to the castle, leaving Peter alone with his thoughts. 

Peter’s day was entirely uneventful after that, he spent the day doing his chores around the stables and talking to the horses (he had to remind himself on more than one occasion that they can’t actually talk back) to try and distract himself.

Time disappeared quickly (and yet all too slowly at the same time), night had fallen and still Caspian hadn’t returned to tell Peter about how the celebration had gone. Of course, he’d never promised he would, but it had just kind of become tradition for the two of them over the course of the years. Caspian would have his birthday celebration, tell his uncle he was retiring for the evening and sneak out to visit Peter for a few minutes to complain about all the stuffy, pretentious noblemen he’d been forced to make pleasant conversation with. 

But that night he never came, and as he went inside and climbed into bed, Peter tried his best not to feel a little disappointed (he did).  
The one thing he did know with absolute certainty, however, was that he could no longer put off what he had to do. Miraz had to be stopped, and there was just under a year remaining.  
Peter went to bed that night carefully constructing a plan against the man in his head.  
Of course, if Caspian had foreseen what was coming, well, then, he wouldn’t have complained a word about stuffy birthday celebrations or pretentious nobles.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my new fic, based off of a prompt I got from Sierra, so I take very little credit for the plot idea, I only made it my own somewhere in the middle where the prompt was a little vague. I'm so sorry that first chapter was so short, I promise they'll be longer (at least one thousand words longer) from here on out.


End file.
